


The Honour of Canada Is at Stake Here (aka Lick, Lick, Spit)

by elderwitty, squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: A Farm in Iowa 'Verse by sheafrotherdon, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderwitty/pseuds/elderwitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a missing scene that takes place starting the night before Rodney goes back to California at the beginning of "And Then There Was Finn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Honour of Canada Is at Stake Here (aka Lick, Lick, Spit)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And Then There Was Finn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/117564) by [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon). 



> First off, MAJOR kudos for Cate ([](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/profile)[ **sheafrotherdon**](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/) ) for writing this 'verse in the first place, for being such an incredible inspiration and talent, and for allowing me to play in the sandbox.  Second set of kudos goes to Lisa ([](http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/profile)[ **elderwitty**](http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/) ) for dragging me into the lives of John & Rodney.  I base all of this work off of the "A Farm in Iowa" universe, as I actually only know the characters from that world (though I've finally watched the first 5 eps of SGA), plus one other SGA AU.  Beta'd (and title debate!) by [](http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/profile)[**elderwitty**](http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/)  - naturally.

The night before Rodney is due back in California, the couple find themselves in bed earlier than has become their norm, touching slower and more intimately than when the week began. Their determination to leave an impression on each other deep enough to last until they’re once again together results in both men eventually falling asleep fully sated. John is first to wake, but instead of getting up he spoons against Rodney, chin angled to his neck, the feel/warmth/smell of Rodney filling his senses. John splays his left hand across Rodney’s chest, lightly playing with his nipples and watching the effect it has on him as he sleeps. 

"Mmrm", Rodney declares, fidgeting onto his back.  John doesn’t move, still propped on his side watching as Rodney stirs.  Morning begins to break, with an already warm breeze coming in the windows, and sunlight spilling across the room.

"Mmmrm, huh?"  John asks quietly.

Rodney's eyelids flutter, shaking the slumber away, blue eyes gazing up at John.  A smile instantly blooms, though it's quickly chased away by a slight scowl.  Rodney turns, burrowing his head into John's chest.  "Don'wanngo".

John quirks an eyebrow, guiding Rodney's face up to his own with the light touch of a finger.  "I know," he responds, a sigh escaping, filling the room.

Rodney leans up to place a kiss on the side of John's mouth while his hands make their way to John's back, grabbing a handful of ass cheek in the process. The smile returns to Rodney's face, bringing with it a throbbing that John can feel against his thigh. 

It's another hour before they finally get out of bed.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Padding into the kitchen, they start the routine that both will miss, come the following day.  In the short time they have been on the farm together, they've settled into a comfortable pattern.  Rodney heads to the freezer for beans, while John forages in the pantry for breakfast.  As the coffee grinder sputters to life, John considers their options for a moment, then decides to make Rodney a proper breakfast for his sendoff.  He turns around and asks, "Waffles or pancakes?"

Decisions before coffee come slower to Rodney, so he considers the impending carbohydrate fest seriously.  "Will there be bacon?"

John smiles as he watches Rodney’s hand make its way to his chin, as if the classic Rodin pose will help him during this tricky, pre-caffeine decision-making process.  "Yes, McKay.  I'll make you bacon, too, if you want," he says, and watches Rodney's face light up.  Or, at least, John thinks it may be the bacon, but since the coffeemaker just gurgled a spurt of water through the beans, that could have contributed to the look of joy.

"Waffles!"

John smirks.  He won't admit it, but he loves that something as simple as a home-cooked meal brings such joy to Rodney.  He feels almost domestic as he juggles the frying of bacon with the mixing and pouring and making of the waffles, while Rodney excuses himself to make a last minute phone call to the movers.  As John flips and stirs and coaxes his grandfather's ancient waffle iron to keep an even heat, he can hear Rodney shuffling in the next room. After finishing up and settling the now breakfast-laden dishes on the counter, John turns off the stove and unplugs the waffle iron.  He rounds the kitchen doorway and leans against it, clad only in his apron and boxers.  He clears his throat, instantly regaining Rodney's undivided attention.

Rodney utters something incoherent - halfway between "wow" and a purr - and closes the distance between them.  Eyes close, hands start exploring, and John's sure that, yes, Rodney _is_ purring.  Though he doesn't want to, he pulls back first.  "Breakfast is gonna get cold."

Rodney says, "Oh," somehow managing to sound disappointed and intrigued at the same time, and heads back into the kitchen. John follows him in, asking, "Syrup or strawberries for your waffles?"

Refilling his cup, Rodney responds without having to put much thought into it.  "Syrup."

"Here," John says, taking his apron off and passing Rodney his coffee cup.  "Wanna fill me up?" he asks suggestively.  He feels the piercing blue eyes raking his boxer-clad body, and could swear that he hears Rodney whimper slightly while he pours the coffee before sitting down.

After putting the finishing touches on their plates, John hands Rodney his breakfast (with memories of their sexcapades in front of the refrigerator fresh in his mind), and is met with a beaming smile.  Rodney eyes the waffles as he had John just moments before, so John decides to sweeten the deal.  He leans down to dip a finger in the syrup swimming around Rodney's waffles (John is pretty sure that with McKay's sweet tooth, he can't over-pour), then licks it seductively, slowly letting the fingertip roll off his curled tongue, down his kiss-bruised lips and along the length of his throat.  Thinking, "Man, this is _too_ easy," he dips another finger into the syrup and lifts it to Rodney's mouth, where it is eagerly met with a groan and enveloped in warm wetness.

Rodney looks like he's in ecstasy, eagerly lapping at John's finger for exactly two seconds.  Suddenly his eyes grow big and his mouth opens, freeing John's finger and a bit of drool; a classic look of horror plastered across his face.  He freezes like that, causing John's own eyes to widen in shock.  "What?!" John demands.

Regaining his senses, Rodney almost shouts his accusing, " _What the hell was that?_ " up at John, absently wiping his mouth with his bare arm, then chasing the offending taste away with a mouthful of coffee. 

Fearing his cooking abilities have gone south, John responds "What the hell was _what_?" Picking up the plate, he dips his finger in the butter and syrup.  He cautiously brings it up to his face, sniffing it curiously.  Butter.  Syrup.  John smells nothing extraordinary.  His tongue darts out in a way that would normally make Rodney's ears red, had he not currently been apoplectic.  Tasting nothing out of the ordinary, he puts the plate back on the table and looks at Rodney, adding, "Tastes fine to me."

Rodney's eyes dart around John, looking at the counter.  "What is _that_?"  Rodney was now pointing towards the waffle maker.  John turns to scan the kitchen, following the path of Rodney's accusation-filled finger to a small, brown, vaguely woman-shaped bottle. 

He crosses the short distance to the counter, picking up the bottle of Mrs. Buttersworth and turning back to Rodney with a flourish, like the dorkiest Vanna White impersonator in Iowa.  "'S syrup, McKay."

" _That. Is. Not. Syrup."_

"Sure it is," John glances down at the bottle in his hands.  "Well, it's what I grew up on."  John delightedly pours the thick brown liquid over his own waffles and bacon, leans back against the counter as he picks up the plate, and cuts into the golden waffle, taking as large a piece as can fit in his mouth.  He overemphasizes the bite with as many "Mmmms" and "Ooohs" as possible, letting a little syrup dribble from his lips.  The sticky drop glistens in John's stubble, putting Rodney in a sexual desire versus national-pride conundrum; John Sheppard leering towards him, garnished with ersatz syrup, daring to be licked.

Rodney squirms slightly, but sticks to his principals.  "When I get back," he proclaims as he rises from the table and uses a finger to remove the drip of temptation from John's chin, "we will go shopping.  And at that time," he adds, wiping the processed maple-flavored ooze off onto a dishtowel, "we will buy _proper_ maple syrup.  Preferably from Canada, particularly the Quebec region, although, because we live in this," Rodney flails his arms about, "backwater - Vermont or New Hampshire may have to suffice."  He watches John retrieve his abandoned plate from the table, coming back to deposit Rodney's waffle and bacon breakfast atop his own. 

"Cereal's in the -- pantry," John tosses out, briefly interrupting himself to commit an obscene licking motion along his fork.  He adds a jerk of his chin towards the fridge, "But we may be out of milk."

Rodney watches John rescue a drowning piece of bacon from his plate.  He grasps John's wrist, pulling the pork treat towards himself.  John studies Rodney's face as Rodney weighs the pros of "bacon" against the cons of "bacon coated in syrup imposter" long enough for it to drip onto the floor.  Rodney's desire for bacon wins out, and as he chews, his face shows bliss, albeit dampened slightly by his righteous loathing for Mrs. Butterworth.  His complicated expression puts a gentle smile on John's face.

Rodney slides his hand down John’s arm ‘til their fingers entwine, gently squeezing as their eyes meet. Rodney leans into John and they capture each other's mouth, breath coming fast and urgent as if to ward off Rodney's trip.  Fingers explore bodies; lips rain kisses on every bit of skin they can find until Rodney bends John over the kitchen counter.  All thoughts of coffee, waffles, and maple syrup are abandoned as they forget about everything but each other for the rest of the morning.

  



End file.
